


Outplayed

by DesertVixen



Category: Knives Out (2019)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:55:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28134294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DesertVixen/pseuds/DesertVixen
Summary: After his grandfather changes his will, Ransom has to take action...
Relationships: Ransom Drysdale & Harlan Thrombey
Comments: 8
Kudos: 11
Collections: Yuletide 2020





	Outplayed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Impala_Chick](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Impala_Chick/gifts).



Ransom Drysdale stopped the car in the dark, and sat. Listening to the quiet, trying to put the events of the evening into perspective. Trying to get past his anger enough to think.

So the old man thought he would cut his flesh and blood out of the will, did he?

Like hell he would.

There was no way that Ransom Drysdale was going to stand by and watch his grandfather leave all the money – all their money – to his immigrant nurse. He wondered what services she was providing for the old man besides playing Go and giving him drugs that they couldn’t just pick up at the drugstore. Although he was willing to admit that if she’d been banging the old man, she had definitely earned herself a cut of the money. 

Ransom gave some brief thought to the idea of starting a relationship with Marta, playing on her sympathy, convincing her that she didn’t really need all that money. She was a good-looking woman, and it wouldn’t be a hardship to get down with her. But it would require him to pretend like he cared about someone besides himself for longer than five minutes, however, and that was hard work.

But there was no way he was going to stand by while she collected all of the money, while Ransom and the rest of the Thrombeys were put out on the street. They could fight it, of course – his mother had money of her own, at least – but that could leave them tied up in court for years. 

Maybe Harlan would change his mind. It wouldn’t be the first time he had played with his will, changing things around depending on how he felt. But what if he didn’t change it soon? What if he died before he changed it?

The thought was like a thunderbolt. _What if he simply died?_

What if Harlan was murdered, and they could convince the authorities that Marta had offed the old man for the money? 

It wasn’t the first time that he had considered knocking the old man off. Not that Harlan had been stingy with the money, but Ransom was tired of playing Grandfather-May-I every time he needed money. Harlan had lived a long full life. 

Ransom had almost convinced himself that it would be an act of love, like putting down an animal who was old and sick. 

But the fear of being caught always stopped him. 

After all, there had been no need to risk it, and while his body was old, Ransom was well aware that his grandfather had lost none of his mental sharpness, none of the skill that let him plot the most intricate mystery plots. Old rich man being bumped off by a greedy relative was a pretty standard plot, and even dumb cops would take a close look at him and the rest of the family.

But now, now there was a need. And as he sat there in the dark, he realized that Marta was the key. If she were to make a mistake, give Harlan a little too much of one of his drugs, it would be lights out for the old man.

All he had to do was give her a little help.

*** 

It was easy enough to sneak back – Harlan had an elaborate security system, but Ransom made a habit of knowing where all the blank spots were, just in case. Everyone would be busy downstairs, enjoying the old man’s birthday party and probably gossiping about him in his absence. He was sure Uncle Walt would have a few words to say about how useless and entitled Ransom was – as if Walt was any better. Walt liked to harp on Ransom’s lack of ambition or job, but the truth was that Walt was just a glorified vanity publisher. The publishing company only had one author – Harlan Thrombey – and only produced one product – Harlan Thrombey mystery novels. But Uncle Walt felt he earned his salary, while Ransom was busy having a good time at Harlan’s expense.

He wondered how Uncle Walt would feel if he knew he’d been written out of the will – not just Ransom, but Walt and Donna and their little troll son. It didn’t matter, because he knew his uncle wouldn’t have the balls to do anything about it, anyway. 

Ransom was doing them all a favor. 

He had a bad moment when Great-Nana saw him, but Ransom felt confident no one would listen to that old bat anyway – if she even remembered seeing him. Upstairs, he toyed with the idea of liberating some supplies from the medical bag – he knew some folks who would be happy to pay for a little extra medication – but discarded the idea. No point in muddying the waters.

When he saw how similar the two medicines looked – the Toradol and the morphine – he knew how he was going to do it. He wasn’t a medical genius, but everyone knew that too much morphine could send you off into permanent sleepy-time. 

It would make sense – Marta was a nurse, she was attached to Harlan, she wouldn’t have wanted him to suffer. It would look natural – what could be more natural than an eighty-five year old man who went to sleep and didn’t wake up? He would wait a day or two, then send an anonymous tip to the police to ensure they took a closer look at Harlan’s death. 

Ransom didn’t really want him to suffer. It wasn’t that he didn’t love his grandfather, but the old man had outlived his usefulness. If he played his cards right, Marta wouldn’t even notice the mistake.

Just in case, Ransom helped himself to the naloxone injector. Marta had briefed the family on the use of it, just in case there was ever a need for one of them to help her. If she realized what had happened, it was highly unlikely that medical aid could get out to his grandfather’s ridiculous mansion in time. If she was smart, she wouldn’t let on to Harlan that she had made a mistake. Maybe he would wait until after the will was read – if Marta didn’t make a fuss, there was no need to turn her in.

If she wasn’t smart, well… the odds were stacked against her.

At home later, he poured himself a glass of expensive Scotch, contemplating the evening’s work. He had to decide how he was going to play it when someone called to notify him that his grandfather had passed in his sleep. He didn’t want to overdo it, Ransom decided. His relatives might get suspicious if he displayed too much grief. A little sorrow, a little regret for those last harsh words between them – that was the way to go, depending on who called him to make the notification.

He’d play it by ear.

Ransom drained the glass and went to bed, never guessing that once again his grandfather had beat him at the game they were playing.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it! It wasn't precisely the story I set out to write when I snagged your pinch hit, but I feel like this better meets your request.


End file.
